


Brothers in Life

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Series: Man's Best Friend [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Brotherly Affection, First Meetings, Gen, Light Angst, Oliver Queen Has PTSD, Oliver gets a service dog, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Service Dogs, Social Anxiety, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8897641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: Oliver is plagued by anxiety as he plans to introduce his service dog, Hunter, to his brother in everything but blood and best friend, Tommy Merlyn.Things quickly turn emotional, but then tense, as Hunter is also introduced to Malcolm Merlyn for the first time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> And we're back for a quick oneshot about Hunter meeting Tommy and Malcolm, whilst I write the media reaction fic and the Olicity first date fic.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Have a nice holiday season :)

* * *

Everybody knew that Thomas Merlyn was Oliver Queen’s best friend. And even after five years on a deserted island, in Hong Kong and in Russia, being tortured and suffering horrifically, that hadn’t changed for Oliver. Tommy was, and would always be, his best friend. But of course, after arriving home from Lian Yu… everything had changed. The archer was cold, and hardened, and he was a killer. He’d forced himself to transform into the perfect weapon, taught himself to shed all emotion and personal attachment. Oliver was physically and mentally scarred, diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety, and was suspected to be suffering from depression. He was assigned a therapy assistance dog. And Tommy knew none of this.

Which was probably why the archer was so nervous to be telling Tommy about Hunter. He was currently pacing back and forth across the swimming pool deck in the spacious grounds of the Queen mansion, his fingers rubbing against his thumb in a nervous tick as he desperately tried to construct a plan within his mind. Diggle was seated on one of the sun loungers, elbows resting on his knees as he watched his charge silently.

Hunter was lying, basking in the morning sunrays that streamed down through the leaves of the trees onto the ground. When Oliver had began pacing, the German Shepherd-husky mix had trotted by his side obediently, but after ten minutes or so, Hunter must have realised that Oliver had worked himself up into a state that the service dog wasn’t going to be able to calm him out of. Oliver needed to work through this himself.

He’d only told Thea about Hunter two days ago. And that had been an extremely stressful situation, due to his little sister not properly understanding and comprehending Oliver’s mental issues. Oliver did not want things to go with Tommy like they did with Thea. His mother and Walter had somehow been able to convince Oliver that they should call Tommy over to talk to him about Hunter after the incident with Thea, thinking it would be best for the archer to purposely inform somebody, personally. It would allow Oliver to take control of the situation, making it less uncomfortable and more manageable. That didn’t mean he felt any less nervous.

“Diggle, can you please go and find my Mom, ask her to come out here?” Oliver questioned, managing to keep his voice steady. “I need to ask her when she’s asked Tommy to come.”

His bodyguard nodded, rising slowly. “Sure. You still gonna be here when I get back, or is this you trying to ditch me, again?”

“I’ll be here,” the archer promised quietly. “I’m not going to run, Dig.”

“Alright,” Diggle allowed. “Do you mind if I take fifteen then? My nephew’s playing in his first baseball game today, I just want to check in.”

“You can go and watch him if you’d like,” Oliver offered.

Diggle gave him a gentle smile. “No, I’m needed here.” The archer appreciated the fact that he didn’t mention that he might be needed at the Queen mansion in case Oliver had a panic attack, rather than for security reasons, and responded with his own small smile.

His eyes fixed on Diggle’s broad back as his bodyguard headed inside, Oliver only moved his eyes back to the treeline across the large expanse of lawn once his bodyguard vanished. He was still tense, his anxiety writhing inside of his chest and making him feel almost sick.

Hunter raised his head from his paws and gave a low concerned whine, thumping his tail against the deck. Barely shooting the service dog a glance, Oliver started speaking aloud, trying to keep his voice from shaking, “It’s stupid to be tense, right?”

Tilting his head sideways and heaving himself onto his paws, Hunter slipped closer to the archer, where he’d stopped, staring out at the trees a short distance away. The gentle swaying of the branches and rustling of the leaves reminded him of the calmer days on Lian Yu, when Oliver had actually been able to enjoy the silence and solitude brought on by the grey, dull nature of the island. Pressing his side into his master’s legs, Hunter gave a short huff, ears perking as he licked his fangs.

“I mean, it’s Tommy,” Oliver continued. “He’s my best friend. I shouldn’t be anxious about telling him about my mental illnesses.”

“Oliver?”

He turned. Moira was standing at the open patio doors, a worried expression on her face. Even though it was the early morning, only around eight o’clock, she looked impeccable, her hair and clothes perfect. Oliver, on the other hand, most likely appeared a mess. He was wearing the same khaki shorts and dark wash t-shirt that he’d gone running in at dawn, which were streaked with sweat and dirt.

“Mr Diggle said you wanted to speak with me. Whom are you talking to, sweetheart?” she questioned, obviously trying to keep her tone light and conversational, but her eyes portrayed her concern.

“Hunter,” Oliver replied. “He’s a good listener.”

His mother nodded understandingly. She seemed hesitant to approach the archer, but she did so, slowly and carefully, as if she was walking towards a spooked, cornered animal. Her feet were bare as she padded on the patio slabs, and Oliver guessed they were cold, seeing as the night had been particularly frigid. Standing beside her son, Moira stared out at the trees just as Oliver did, and it was only once the archer himself initiated contact between them, reaching out and sliding his hand into hers, that she sighed and her shoulders slumped in relief.

“It’s only natural to be agitated about telling Tommy,” she said softly. “You two may have known each other for years, but this is a massive part of your life that he doesn’t know about.”

“I know, but -” He cut himself off, shaking his head, considering his words. It was only Hunter’s weight reassuringly resting on his legs that urged him to keep going, finally finishing, “It sounds ridiculous, but some part of me is really unsettled at the thought of Tommy rejecting me.”

An expression passed over Moira’s face that was a mix of astonishment, sympathy and distress, but before she got the chance to respond, Raisa appeared at the back door and informed them that Mr and Mr Merlyn had arrived. Sudden alarm swept through the archer, and he went completely still, and Hunter must have sensed his emotions at that moment because he made a crooning, soothing noise, attempting to pacify him.

“You didn’t tell me Malcolm was coming,” Oliver said to his mother, fear leaking into his voice. He thought he had control, he thought that this entire confrontation would be within his hands, and now, he was only just finding out that Tommy’s disdainful, emotionally abusive father was visiting.

Moira looked panicked. “Sweetheart, I swear, I had no idea he was going to come,” she tried to reassure him. “I’ll go and speak to him, ask him to -”

“He’s here now, you can’t just ask him to leave.”

“Oliver.” His mother’s voice tremored. “Your hands are shaking.”

He glanced down at them. They were. Clenching them into fists, he closed his eyes and aimed to compartmentalise, struggling to regain control over his hitched breathing. “I’m going to have to tell both of them, aren’t I?”

“Honestly, I can talk to Malcolm, I’m sure he’ll understand -”

It took every ounce of Oliver’s mental strength to shake his head and choke out, “No, it’s okay. I would have had to tell him sometime anyway, I just wasn’t expecting… it to be so soon. At least this gets it out of the way, right?” He forced a chuckle.

He stepped past Moira before she could protest once again, shooting Raisa a weak smile as he walked by her, his heart panging when the Russian maid gave him a sympathetic look. Hunter trotted on his heels behind him obediently as always, and his mother hurried to keep up with them both as they navigated back to the living room. Oliver’s breath hitched when he saw Tommy and Malcolm both waiting in the lobby near the front door. With a quiet command for Hunter to stay, and ignoring his service dog’s quiet whine, the archer strode out as confidently as he could to greet the Merlyns.

“Hey, buddy,” he greeted Tommy, faking a cheerful tone. “Mr Merlyn, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Tommy mentioned that Moira sounded stressed whilst on the phone,” Malcolm replied calmly, with a small smile on his lips that made Oliver twitch nervously. The older Merlyn had always made him feel uncomfortable, but now his threat processing was through the roof… he couldn’t help but think of Malcolm as a threat. “And I wanted to see you, Oliver. Welcome back to Starling City.”

“Thank you,” he responded stiffly.

“It must be quite the task, readjusting.” The older man’s dark eyes were glittering, and the archer’s insides twisted uncomfortably as Malcolm’s gaze seemed to pierce his skin. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, returning home from five years on a deserted island and finding everything so different.”

“Yes, it’s difficult,” Oliver responded shortly. 

A brief awkward silence fell. Recognising the tension that had settled, his best friend cleared his throat. “Your mom said you needed to talk to me about something,” Tommy prompted, a friendly but confused grin on his face as he stepped forwards, actually sliding in front of his father so Oliver’s view of Malcolm was blocked.

Swallowing, Oliver nodded. “Yes.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “... And?”

Chewing the inside of his cheek anxiously, Oliver leant sideways so he could see around Tommy to where Malcolm was standing, staring at him with narrowed eyes. Luckily, Moira swept in at that moment and took a hold of Malcolm’s arm, whispering something to him and guiding him off in the direction of her work office. Deflating in relief that he was being left alone with his best friend, and presuming that his mother was going to handle telling Malcolm about Hunter for him, the archer released a slow exhale, relaxing his tensed shoulders and knotting his fingers together.

“Oliver?” Tommy questioned concernedly.

“I need to tell you something,” Oliver said.

“Then tell me. What is it? Seriously, you’re freaking me out, man.”

“Follow me,” was all the archer offered, leading him into the living room.

Hunter instantly perked up when Oliver entered the room, his ears swivelling and nose twitching madly, which caused a smile to erupt on the archer’s face. The service dog obeyed his previous command however, and stayed seated next to the couch, although his tail started thumping the floor happily and he cocked his head sideways in curiosity when Tommy entered the room just behind his master.

Tommy startled visibly when he saw Hunter. “Uh…” He seemed lost for words. “There’s… a dog?”

“Yep,” the archer agreed, shooting a glance back at Tommy. “My dog.”

“Your dog?”

“My dog,” Oliver confirmed. He knew he was avoiding confessing that he was actually a service dog, and he knew that he was playing for time, but this was difficult, and he was subconsciously trying to distract Tommy for as long as he could. “His name’s Hunter. He’s ex-military, a German Shepherd husky-mix.”

“Uh, okay.” Blinking, his best friend quirked an eyebrow in bemusement and questioned, “So you got back from being on a deserted island for five years and decided to get a pet dog?”

It did sound rather strange. Of course, that wasn’t what happened. And now, Oliver was going to have to explain. Pausing next to Hunter and looking Tommy directly in the eyes, he attempted to lower his protective emotional barriers, exhale stuttering, as he finally admitted, “No. Hunter’s not a pet. He’s my service dog.”

Taken back for a moment, Tommy just stared at him. Not saying anything. His expression was completely unreadable, and Oliver shifted awkwardly, his nerves wracking up once around five seconds had passed and his best friend was still silent. Recognising his master’s anxiety, Hunter rose to his feet and nudged Oliver gently, emitting a low, calming rumble.

Finally, Tommy slowly began to nod, saying carefully, “Alright. Why do you need a service dog?”

Closing his eyes in relief that at least Tommy hadn’t outwardly shown he was rejecting Oliver yet, the archer picked up his mental health evaluation file from the coffee table, where his mother had placed it earlier that morning, in anticipation of needing to show it when the younger Merlyn came over. He handed the file over wordlessly, and Tommy’s hand extended out hesitantly to take it. Once his best friend had it held in his hands and opened it, flicking to the first page, the archer took a seat on the couch restlessly, Hunter lying down at his feet with his heavy side resting on top of his feet, providing a crushing weight that grounded him. Whilst Tommy held himself still, his shoulders wired as he read the pages, once again with an unrecognisable look on his face, Oliver released the emotions pent up inside of him since he’d woken up that morning, fidgeting in an apprehensive manner, his hands trembling due to his agitation.

It was only once he saw that Tommy had reached the last page of the file that Oliver spoke up. “I understand if you don’t…” The archer’s voice nearly broke. “If you don’t want to associate with me anymore.”

Tommy flipped the file closed, and his expression was set, hard and fierce, yet not angry or disdained. “What, you think this is supposed to change the fact that you’re my best friend?” he asked defensively, throwing the psychiatrist report down on the table,

“What? No,” Oliver protested quickly. “I just thought -”

“Thought that what?”

“You know… I’m mentally damaged. I have PTSD and social anxiety… and you’re the most social person that I know,” he chuckled weakly. “I just thought you might want to re-evaluate -”

“Screw that,” Tommy shook his head. “You’re my best friend. You have been since we were like, seven. And that’s never going to change. All this means is that we’re gonna be going to a lot less clubs and parties together now. You went through a horrible ordeal, and I couldn’t be there for you then, but I’m sure as hell going to be here for you now you’re home.”

Avoiding eye contact, slightly scared of what he might see in Tommy’s eyes if they did lock gazes, Oliver just whispered, “My mental illnesses -”

“I couldn’t care less about the PTSD and anxiety, Oliver,” his best friend said impatiently, frustration in his voice but not directed at the archer. “That doesn’t define who you are as a person, and your mental state does not define what makes you my best friend. So what, you’re mentally damaged? You could be a murderer, and you’d still be my best friend. You didn’t abandon me when my mom died and I needed you, I’m not going to abandon you when you need me.”

Oliver didn’t realise that tears of absolute relief and happiness had sprung to his eyes until he angrily scrubbed at them due to their itching, and his fingers came away wet. Hunter immediately attempted to comfort him, licking his hands and pressing his furry head into his master’s stomach with low rumbles. The hiccupping sort of silent sob that erupted from his chest was not one he could control, and Tommy quickly sat down on the couch beside him and tugged him in for a hug, his best friend’s arms securing the archer’s frame.

The strong embrace made Oliver tense for a moment, his threat processing as messed up as always, but he insisted to his mind that this was Tommy, this was his brother and best friend, and he slowly relaxed, tipping his head down onto the other man’s shoulder and exhaling forcefully. Hunter gave a low soothing purring sound and jumped up onto the cushions so his forepaws were resting on Oliver’s thighs, licking and nuzzling his master’s hands and occasionally turning to lick at Tommy’s fingers as well.

“Okay, that’s enough hugging.” Tommy pulled away, and he too had suspiciously moist eyes, blinking rapidly as he managed a small reassuring smile. “You gonna introduce me to my new rival for best friend title, or what?”

Laughing, Oliver scratched under Hunter’s chin as the service dog gazed at Tommy suspiciously, his blue eyes calculating and speculative. “Tommy, this is Hunter. Hunter, this is Tommy,” he introduced. When Hunter’s ears flattened back on his skull and the dog’s whiskers twitched apprehensively, the archer reassured him quietly, “Remember, I told you about him. He’s my best friend.”

Hunter tilted his head sideways at Tommy, ears erect and tail thumping the ground. The service dog backed off the couch, dropping his forepaws down and hopping backwards so he could rest on his haunches with a small whine, tilting his head sideways. His ears flopped adorably with his head, making them both grin. Shooting Oliver a questioning look, at which the archer nodded at, Tommy shuffled off the couch and knelt down so he could offer his hands to the dog to sniff. Warily, Hunter snuffled at his best friend’s fingers, before the dog moved to nudge Tommy’s collarbones, and then his arms. Tommy kept perfectly still, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Nice to meet you, buddy,” Tommy murmured. “Thanks for looking after Oliver. He’s like my brother, it really means a lot to me that you’ve been looking out for him.”

Before Oliver could react, Hunter leapt up and placed his paws onto Tommy’s shoulders, pushing his best friend down onto the floor with an _oooff_. Seconds later, Tommy was laughing as the service dog licked all over his face, tickling the man as he snuffled his neck and his ears playfully. A beaming smile broke onto Oliver’s face as his best friend continued to laugh, sounding happy and carefree. He’s always known that Tommy had wanted a dog. Once, when he was seven, Tommy had found an abandoned spaniel puppy on the streets, but Malcolm had harshly forced the young boy to throw it back out into the cold, saying that he wasn’t responsible enough to look after a dog. At least now, Oliver knew that Tommy would get to experience sort of owning a dog, considering his best friend probably was going to spend enough time with Oliver that Hunter would become quite emotionally attached.

When Oliver released his own laugh, Hunter bounded off Tommy, shaking his pelt out before padding up to his master and nosing his bare feet, huffing decisively as if telling him, _I like him, we’re keeping him_.

Tommy remained lying on his back on the ground, moving his hand so it was behind his head and he was propped up on his elbow, grinning. Ruffling Hunter’s scruff fondly, Oliver rose to his feet to offer his best friend a hand to help him up.

Both Moira and Malcolm both entered the living room at the precise moment that Oliver heaved Tommy back to his feet and Hunter sat down, tail wagging and tongue lolling out of his mouth as he looked between his master and his master’s best friend. Both the two younger men turned to face their parents, Oliver knotting his fingers together anxiously as he caught sight of Malcolm’s somewhat cold expression and frown as his eyes flitted over the scene. Tommy opened his mouth, about to say something defensively, but then Hunter had a reaction that honestly shocked Oliver, having never seen his service dog show dislike to anybody before.

Hunter was reacting to Malcolm Merlyn as if he was the worst human being on the planet.

A sharp growl escaped Hunter’s throat as his lips drew back into a snarl, hackles rising and fur going on end as he crouched aggressively. Wariness immediately crossed Malcolm’s features and he took a hesitant step backwards behind Moira, who was appearing stunned herself at Hunter’s reaction. Tommy shot Oliver a confused look, but the archer himself was also bewildered. Hunter usually liked everybody. It was strange for him to show hostility towards someone. Hunter’s growling didn’t die down, and the service dog slowly moved in front of Oliver, as if shielding him protectively from a threat. Alarm bells were set off in Oliver’s head immediately. If Hunter did not trust Malcolm Merlyn, there was good reason for Oliver not to. If he had learnt anything, it was that dogs had very accurate senses when it came to determining which humans were good and bad, and Hunter’s judgement could be trusted above all. His service dog thought that Malcolm Merlyn was shady, and therefore, Oliver knew that he was not to be trusted nor trifled with.

“Oliver,” Moira hissed sharply, looking between Hunter and her son as if Oliver had some sort of control over his service dog snarling at somebody.

Shrugging in response, he murmured, “He’s doing it of his own accord.”

“It’s alright,” Malcolm responded calmly, outwardly maintaining his appearance of being unflappable, but there was a glint in his eyes that told the archer that he was wary of the dog. A smirk tugged at his lips because of that, and a quick glance Tommy’s way informed Oliver that his best friend thought this was funny too. “I’m sure it just takes a few minutes for him to warm up to people.”

“Yeah, I’m not so certain, Dad,” Tommy replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “Hunter didn’t growl at me at all when he first saw me. Maybe he just doesn’t like you.” Under his breath, he added, “Not that I could blame him,” which Oliver chuckled at.

Shifting nervously when Malcolm approached the dog, the archer carefully kept an eye on Hunter and his reaction. If possible, the service dog’s snarling increased in volume and he drew himself up to an even larger height, trying to intimidate the older Merlyn. Malcolm’s hand hardly shook when he extended it out for Hunter to sniff, but it quickly recoiled when the service dog gave a warning snap of his teeth.

“Oliver.” Moira shot her son a pleading look. A little alarmed by the fear and apprehension in his mother’s eyes, Oliver called Hunter back, and the service dog circled around the couch so he was back at his master’s side, stopping his growling and sitting down, but his ears still pressed back to his skull in obvious distaste. “I’m so sorry, Malcolm, I honestly don’t know what has got into him. Hunter is usually a very friendly dog.”

“Or maybe he’s trying to tell us something. Warn us about something.” Tommy’s eyes were fixed on his father, and there was a fire within them that Oliver didn’t think he’d ever seen before, especially not directed towards Malcolm. “Dogs do have a good sense of trustworthiness, after all.” After a beat of tense silence, and Moira inhaling sharply, eyes growing wide with her fright, Tommy broke a fake smile and said, “Kidding. It’s probably that he can smell your aftershave or something, Dad, and he doesn’t like it.”

“Hmm.” Malcolm nodded in agreement, but his eyes were now narrowed towards Hunter. Almost immediately, as the older man’s posture changed, Oliver tensed and went on the alert, his threat processing telling him that a very dangerous, and very clear threat was present within the older Merlyn. If Malcolm noticed the archer drawing slightly closer to his mother and Tommy protectively, and his hands curling into fists in preparation of having to throw a punch, he didn’t react nor say anything. “Perhaps it will take a short while for Hunter to begin to get used to me.”

“I doubt it,” Tommy muttered, causing Oliver to grin and duck his head, subtly elbowing his best friend in the side.

Malcolm ignored his son, saying, “It’s time for Tommy and I to go, unfortunately. I have a meeting at Merlyn Global I need to get to, and Tommy is going to be spending the day in the marketing department.”

Moira perked up. “Really? I wasn’t aware you were interested in taking up a position in the family company, Tommy.”

“I’m not,” Tommy replied sourly, reaching down to gently ruffle Hunter’s scruff when the service dog positioned himself between Oliver and his best friend. “I don’t want anything to do with it, which I have expressed to my dad, repeatedly.”

Affronted by the younger man’s tone, and looking slightly angry, Malcolm said, “It’s time for you to take up some responsibility. I will not have a son of mine wasting his life. For too long you’ve acted like a child, immature and callow.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if I’d actually had a parent to guide me that wouldn’t have happened,” Tommy replied, irritated.

Malcolm’s eyes flitted over to Moira and Oliver as he responded lowly, his voice dark and dangerous, “We have company, Tommy. Let’s not start this argument again.”

Sensing the tension, Moira tried to diffuse it by suggesting, “Well, Walter and I have been talking about getting Oliver some experience within Queen Consolidated, maybe you two could work together at Merlyn Global instead, gain some insight into the business world.”

Now Oliver was not only annoyed and furious at Malcolm for pretending as if he actually cared about Tommy beyond what his son brought to his family’s reputation, but also irritated with his mother. “Mom, I’ve told you multiple times that I don’t want to go into corporation business. How is it that Walter immediately understood and you can’t seem to get your head around that?”

Moira stood up slightly straighter beside Malcolm, although Oliver knew that he’d ruffled her feathers enough to fluster her a little. “Well, Malcolm is right. Both you and Tommy have lived rather immature and fruitless lives so far, preferring to drink and party rather than make a difference. Gaining some perspective about the world might -”

“I was stranded on a deserted island where I had to fight for survival every day for five years,” Oliver cut in sharply. “I think I’ve got enough worldly perspective, Mom.”

Moira hid her astonishment at his bitter tone well, but Malcolm took a step forwards threateningly, his expression displeased with a hint of rage as he snapped, “You should treat your mother with more respect.”

Hunter countered his step forwards by slinking from between the two younger men with a menacing and protective snarl towards the older Merlyn, ears pricked forwards and muscles stiff and tense. Oliver knew the dog was reacting to the streak of anxiety that had flashed through him when Malcolm had initially made that step, but he was pretty confident that he could hold his own against the older man if it came to a fight, so wasn’t as worried or distressed any more. It wasn’t just Malcolm that Hunter was growling at, however, as his body was also angled towards his mother.

“Oliver, call him off. Get him to back down,” Moira warned.

“Why should I?” Oliver replied. “He views you both as threats to Tommy and I. I trust Hunter’s instincts.” He turned to Tommy calmly. “Dig should be back soon, I’ll take you out for lunch.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

“He’s coming to the company with me.” Malcolm tried to take another step forwards, but quickly retreated when Hunter snapped angrily at him. “Moira.”

“He won’t listen to anybody except Oliver,” she responded.

“Let’s go, Tommy,” Oliver prompted.

His best friend nodded, shooting his father a wary look before following the archer out of the living room. Hunter covered their backs as they walked out, and Diggle met them at the front door. Diggle didn’t ask what had transpired between the children and their parents although he could obviously tell something had happened, as his eyebrows furrowed and he glanced between them all cautiously. Moira and Malcolm watched in silence as Oliver and Tommy left, both of them fuming silently. There was nothing either of them could do to stop them.

It was only once they were seated in a black sedan, Hunter resting his head on Oliver’s lap soothingly with the two younger men pressed together in the back with Diggle driving them away from the mansion, that they spoke.

“If Hunter hadn’t been there, I think my dad would have decked you,” Tommy muttered.

“I should have let him try,” Oliver said darkly, staring out the window. “I’m not the boy that left on that boat anymore. I can hold my own.”

“You are aware my dad fences, right? He could easily stab you through with a sword if it came to it.”

Oliver filed that useless little piece of alarming information away for later. “He’s not the only one skilled with a blade.”

Tommy looked disturbed at that, but he just asked, “Has Hunter ever reacted to somebody like that before? Like the way he reacted to my dad?”

The archer frowned down at the service dog, rubbing Hunter’s ears tenderly as the canine stared up at him caringly. “No, he’s never outwardly snarled at anybody like that before. He was a little strange towards Thea at first, but that was because she was popping pills, and he could smell the drugs.”

“Shit, man, I should have warned you about that.” An apologetic and guilt look passed over his best friend’s face as he said, crestfallen, “Laurel and I have been keeping an eye on her, but she’s mostly been drinking. Neither of us ever actually caught her red handed. I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have found out that way.”

“I probably wouldn’t have even noticed if Hunter hadn’t reacted to her the way he did,” Oliver admitted. “She’s promised not to bring drugs into the house again, but outside of that, I don’t know what else we can do except keep an eye on her. But yeah, if Hunter reacted to Malcolm like that, it means your dad is bad news, Tommy. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the other man muttered in reply. “I’ve always known he was shady and not a nice person, having your service dog hate him just confirms that my judgement of him was correct.”

Placing a hand on his best friend’s arm, Oliver forced Tommy to meet his intense gaze before he told him, making sure there was a fake disbelieving tone in his voice, although really he wanted intel, “I can’t believe your dad still treats you like that.”

“What, as if I’m just a misbehaving show pony that he can whip into shape to improve his image as a family man, running a family company? Yeah, sorry to tell you this, buddy, but nothing’s changed in that regard over the last five years.” If Tommy was upset or angry about this fact, he didn’t show it. He was almost as skilled as plastering on a mask to hide his emotions as Oliver was. Hunter huffed and shifted over so his head was now resting on Tommy’s knee, his wet nose nudging the man’s fingers. “What was that about with your Mom? She’s seriously trying to get you working at QC?”

“She’s mentioned it once or twice since I arrived back,” Oliver said. “Dig and Walter helped out a lot.”

Diggle looked over at them using the rear view mirror, quirking one eyebrow. “It was your third day back and she suggested that you accompany Walter to the office to get used to a working environment again,” he said. “You’d had Hunter for a day. Thea didn’t even know about him yet. And she wanted to get you into QC.”

Oliver smiled at him, giving him a grateful nod as he told Tommy, “He was more offended on my behalf than I actually was.”

“Aren’t you worried about your mom taking Hunter away?”

“I wouldn’t let her do that,” the archer replied immediately.

“But Oliver - what if she tried?”

“She wouldn’t,” he shook his head. “She’s already seen how much of a help Hunter is, and she has no idea how to help me at all. She wouldn’t dare try and remove my current support system in fear of her having to take over.”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, I can kind of understand that fear,” he said quietly. “You’re not that guy that got onto that boat five years ago. You’ve changed drastically. I was pretty worried at that family dinner at your house that you were going to be so different that we couldn’t be friends anymore.”

“You’ll always be my best friend, Tommy,” Oliver reassured.

Hunter huffed indignantly, whiskers twitching.

Laughing softly, Oliver added, “You and Hunter will have to share me, though.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes at the service dog, pointedly turning away from Oliver as he pretended to negotiate with Hunter, “You take him Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, I’ll take him Thursdays, Fridays and Sundays?”

Hunter barked once, slavering Tommy’s hand in dog saliva.

Nodding, Tommy amended, “Okay, we share him on Saturdays.”

Oliver raised his eyebrow. “You done?”

“But you have to watch him at the dog park,” Tommy continued to Hunter. “So that he doesn’t get lost. We can’t have him going missing for another five years, can we?”

“You sound stupid, you do realise,” Oliver chuckled.

“And Dig, you’ll have to watch him occasionally,” his best friend went on, ignoring Oliver completely, a sly smile on his face. “Obviously it’s your job to watch him, but keeping him entertained, fed and watered is another matter.”

“Yeah, I think I can handle that,” Diggle replied flatly.

“Stop,” Oliver said.

“He needs three meals a day, occasionally some snacks, readily available water. Brooding is bad, so keeping him occupied and distracted is important. Maybe a squeaky ball or a few paddywack chews.”

“I really hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Tommy told him, smiling.

A grin split Oliver’s face as he nudged him in the side, admitting, “Yeah, I really don’t.”

Hunter barked again, tail wagging.

“Don’t worry, bud, I don’t hate you too,” Oliver assured, scratching his scruff fondly.

“You’re all ridiculous,” Diggle muttered from up front.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Please leave kudos and comment :)
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


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